


your voice is my favorite sound

by florabee



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, just something soft and sweet and unbeta'd, please be gentle with it (and me)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22706497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florabee/pseuds/florabee
Summary: freddie takes him home
Relationships: Frederik Andersen/William Nylander
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	your voice is my favorite sound

**Author's Note:**

> title from ingrid michaelson's parachute
> 
> takes place right after the game against the yotes on tuesday, where willy was clearly still sick

willy had tried to keep his eyes open on the way home, really, but the gentle nudge from freddie and the fact that they're parked in his building’s garage with no memory of leaving the arena tells him he didn't succeed.

his limbs still feel sick-heavy and his joints ache just enough to be noticeable and by the time they've made it to the elevator, freddie’s wrapped an arm around his waist, an invitation to lean against him that willy’s not going to pass up.

“think you’re gonna make it?” freddie teases, thumb rubbing a soft line on exposed skin where willy’s shirt has ridden up. he can only manage a hum in response, and he feels freddie’s smile without having to see it. the elevator door opens too soon and willy heaves a sigh as he straightens up.

the walk to his apartment feels twice as long, and, after the second time he nearly takes a spill rounding a corner, freddie puts an arm around him again to keep him steady.

“was it this bad during the game?” freddie sets him against the wall so he can fish for his key. the key willy had made for him a few months ago. the memory makes him smile.

“will?” oh right, the question.

“not quite this bad,” he says. “got a bit rough, late.” freddie shakes his head and gets them in the door, and willy’s never been so grateful for muscle memory to take over.

he’s sinking into bed some five and a half minutes later, relieved to no longer be moving, and he dozes to the distant noise of freddie’s routine path from kitchen, to bedroom, to bathroom, and bedroom again. there's the quiet click of the lamp, the rustle of the covers, the small creak of the bed at added weight, and then, finally, a solid weight across his back and a hand on his hip.

“thank you.” it's a mumble mostly lost to the pillows but freddie still hears it. he drops a kiss to the space just behind the hinge of willy’s jaw, “what for, baby?”

willy’s not entirely sure, is the thing, doesn’t really know why he even said it, except for the feeling that he should’ve. there are several things he could say: for being here, right this minute; for staying with me while i was sick; for being my ride tonight so i didn't have to drive like this; for letting me sleep in the car; for being with me at all.

instead, he turns gracelessly to face freddie, ghosts a returning kiss to his cheek, and answers a simple “because.” freddie laughs, so warm a sound that willy thinks he might never be cold again so long as he can hear it. he’s happy and safe here with freddie’s hands on his skin and his heartbeat beneath his ear.

“love you.”

he doesn’t hear freddie’s answer, sleep coming for him between one breath and the next. but that’s alright—freddie will tell him in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> apparently i'm incapable of writing things that aren't utterly ridiculous, cliched fluff but that's okay


End file.
